


Bicycle Race

by deuil



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deuil/pseuds/deuil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Unsui is 9 years, 42 hours, and 38 minutes old, and he almost wishes that he weren't, that he were either older or younger or, at least, wasn't a twin."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bicycle Race

It feels like an eternity since Unsui's gotten himself settled on the scratched leather of his almost-new bicycle, the sun setting behind impassive playground plastic and casting long, patterned shadows over the abandoned park. Everything is slow-going, the way he hauls himself up on scraped and bloody knees and steadies himself with shaking arms, winding his tense fingers around warm handlebars and reclaiming his grip. Unsui pulls himself up and tries to balance, and he tries to take comfort in the fact that the seat of his bike seems to remember how he sits now, how he gets comfortable, because that feels almost like an accomplishment and he's sorely been in need of those for the past few hours.

The sun is setting behind the world, marking the end of the first day of June, and Unsui still hasn't learned how to ride his bike. It's a joint birthday gift, the kind that single parents give their two kids to encourage them to learn the spirit of sharing, and Unsui's delight in the shiny, polished chrome and the bright-blue paint'd extended only for the duration of time it took for his younger brother to claim it and make it his own. His brother with the identical features and the ease with which he does everything, his father with nothing but praise for his twin's talents, a little sigh and a 'harmless' comment about how Unsui should learn as quickly as his younger brother does.

Unsui is 9 years and 42 hours old, and he's already about 36 hours behind Agon in properly appreciating his present. The need to catch up facilitates his next attempt, and he kicks off, feet pedaling a little too desperately to find momentum. One small foot slips off of the pedal and collides with the spokes (childish fears inviting concern about breaking something new, just for a split second), and there's really nothing Unsui can do against something as insurmountable as gravity, because he topples and falls and scrapes his palm, again, landing as hard as his breathing.

Unsui is 9 years, 42 hours, and 38 minutes old, and he almost wishes that he weren't, that he were either older or younger or, at least, wasn't a twin.

And the next time he gets up, he has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut and tell himself that it won't be so difficult this time, that everyone needs time, that everyone needs practice. It's just Agon, Agon is...different. He's not alone in needing this, he's not the only one that has to get up off the ground and pat the dust from his scabbing knees, not the only one who has to taste defeat before he can pull himself together again. Unsui tells himself this, because he's stubborn and he wants this more than he wanted an actual birthday present.

He falls on his next attempt, again, and he tells himself that this is okay, this is fine. He's not alone.

It's when the sun is almost completely gone and the seasonal insects start chirping that Agon steps out from behind the shadows, his hands stuck in his pockets and his head tilted to the side, expression set in something between a grimace and a frown.

"What are you doing?", he asks, and Unsui has to stop himself from getting on the torn seat of the bike again, leaning his weight on sturdy wheels as he turns to face his brother.

"The old man's been holding off on dinner until you come back." Agon's taken to calling their father 'old man' now, in a precocious tone that matches his attitude. "So come on, I'm hungry."

It's not because it's too dark to see that Agon doesn't comment on Unsui's muddy shirt or torn skin. Unsui knows, and he clams up for a moment before the words come, slow and steady.

"I'm almost done", he says, realigning the dusty pedals so that they're perfectly vertical. Agon narrows his eyes, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and shoves his hands further into his shorts.

"You can do it again tomorrow, not like it's a school day anyway." Agon takes the first step, bridging the gap between them as if it's nothing, as if it's not even just a little bit pathetic that he's found his older brother like this. Maybe Unsui is berating himself far more than Agon is, but sometimes Unsui wonders why Agon couldn't just have been born looking as different as they actually are, and he thinks about how Agon could just wrench this bicycle away from him right now and ride it smoothly back home as if he were born on it.

"I'm almost done", Unsui repeats, and Agon's expression darkens and twists, as if Unsui is accusing him of something, and it's never a good idea to get on Agon's bad side. But Unsui says it again, "you can go home first, I'm almost done", and Agon clicks his tongue, closing the final distance between himself and Unsui and suddenly giving the front wheel of the bike a violent kick, sending it skidding out of Unsui's grip and back onto the concrete.

"Fine," Agon spits, and turns to leave in a flurry of sneakers and grown-out black hair melting into the dark. Unsui remembers that Agon'd mentioned something about dyeing his hair for his 10th birthday, and he's almost relieved-- he knows he'll never do something like that, himself.

 

Unsui is 9 years, 43 hours and 52 minutes old, and he finally makes it home on the back of his gift. His dinner is saran-wrapped and left on the dining room table, and Agon avoids him for the rest of the night, but Unsui is content to know that at the very least, he's still only about 48 hours behind his brother.


End file.
